Red: Black and Blue
by DearBeliever
Summary: Red returns to his safe house in a battered and bruised state. And to an unamused, Lizzie. How did he come to be in this condition? ... I own nothing... (Set post 2.02)
1. Chapter 1

Lizzie rose to her feet as she registered the faint crunch of car tyres beginning to navigate their way up the long stretch of gravel.

She noted hushed words and the sound of a single door closing. Strange, considering Red rarely moved through the world without his trusted shadow. Dembe, it seemed, had something rather pressing to attend to given the noise of his speedy departure.

Lizzie stood poised and waiting for him at the glass door to his safe house, meeting his eye briefly as she opened it before his hand could touch the brass knob. "Red, it's nine thirty," she stated, jaw set.

He ignored her words and moved past her, offering a faint, apologetic smile as he placed his hat on the pillar at the bottom of the staircase and continued slowly on towards his bedroom.

She rounded on him at once, frustrated by his dismissiveness. "I've been here for close to two hours waiting for you. Are you not even going to do me the courtesy of telling me how the meeting went?"

He stopped in his tracks upon hearing the distinct annoyance in her voice. "It was..." Red turned slowly, leaning his left shoulder against the threshold to his bedroom.

He shook his head. "It was… unexpectedly… complicated. I don't have the chip, Lizzie." Red's eyes closed as he uttered the final six words, remaining that way as Liz studied his oddly restrained demeanour.

"So… what then? Has Dembe gone to pursue a lead?"

He worked his mouth, words seemingly failing him. He pushed off the door frame, a grimace colouring his face for the most fleeting of moments. But long enough for the young agent to notice. And for Red to know she had.

"If you'll excuse me, I'd like to go take a shower and freshen up," his gaze dropped and he offered her the same apologetic smile once more. The door clicked closed a few seconds later, just about grazing Lizzie's nose as she stepped forward purposefully.

She stood rooted to the spot, willing her hand to reach for the door, yet unsure of his reaction if she were to press him on the events of the day. She'd never seen him like this before. Withdrawn, softly spoken… Embarrassed, even.

Lizzie lingered near his door for a few minutes, walking to the kitchen to pour both of them a malt whisky and then meandering back again. Before she could place one of the solid, crystal glasses on the hall table she heard a pained groan from his bedroom. Placing booth glasses on the table at once, she moved towards the door. Red would no doubt chastise her for leaving ring marks on an antique but she didn't care. She'd known him long enough to recognise that something was amiss.

"Red, are you, okay?" Liz knocked gently and entered, unwilling to wait for his response.

He was positioned at the end of his bed, sitting atop the many blankets piled there with his head bowed low. He had removed his hat, shoes, jacket and vest, she noted. His shirt untucked and hanging half off.

"Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on with you? What happened with the Swedish connection?" She continued studying him, noting his deep breathing and apparent obliviousness to her presence. His right arm seemed to be clenched across his middle and her eyes widened when she noted that the top of his head seemed to be smeared with blood.

Lizzie fell to her knees in front of him, placing her hands on his thighs. He reacted then, his chin rising to meet her eyes in the dim light offered by the single lamp over his shoulder.

It had been over a month now since she'd last touched Red like this. An somewhat intoxicated encounter after he had said goodbye to his ex-wife and Liz had endured a particularly gruelling interrogation on the boat with Tom. It had been intense and life-giving… And she couldn't stop her mind from drifting back to it in quieter moments. She needed what he could offer her. Whatever it might be.

"I'm fine, Lizzie. Something and nothing." His tongue darted out to moisten his lips and he pouted slightly at her overly-concerned scrutiny.

"Bullshit, it's not nothing, Red…You're in pain." Lizzie reached out to take hold of the wrist that cradled his ribs but her progress was halted by his other hand. Her eyes locked on his for a long moment, pleading silently for him to let her proceed. Lizzie placed her other hand in the middle of his chest and guided it down gently, re-familiarising herself with his hard plains and the softness of his chest hair.

His eyes fell closed again, her name on her lips in quiet exhale. Red let go of her wrist, allowing her to continue. "Sorry," he rasped, his voice deep and affecting.

She carefully pulled his hand away and placed it on her shoulder for him to lean on. He moved his hand and began stroking his fingers up and down the back of her neck. She shivered at his tantalisingly soft touch, resisting the urge to lean into it.

"Red, there's significant bruising here." Lizzie bit her lip, her eyes narrowing in sympathy, being all too familiar with the pain of broken ribs and the complications of internal bleeding. She ghosted her fingers across his ribs as if wishing she could heal him with a simple touch.

He inhaled sharply. "Two broken ribs… I've borne a lot worse, sweetheart."

"Enough, Red." Lizzie stood tall again, easing him to his feet and walking him around to the top of the bed. "Enough."

He sat down with her assistance, chuckling slightly then regretting it instantly, as she picked up his legs and swung them slowly over onto the bed. "My, my, Nurse Keen, what an agreeable bedside manner you have," he breathed, peering down the gap afforded to him in her sweater.

Lizzie looked down, following the trajectory of his increasingly glassy, green eyes. "Ass," she stated, swatting him lightly on his leg.

"The ass is pretty good too, yes." Red leaned back on the firm pillows, bringing his hands up to lay protectively across his middle again.

"I'm going to go and get a dressing for your head and some pain meds too," Lizzie spoke. Part of her hated seeing him in this vulnerable state yet she couldn't help but recognise its inherent advantages. "And then you can tell me all about how you came to be in this state."

Red shook his head slightly before the door clicked closed. "Don't count on it, sweetheart, " he sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews and kind words. This one is now complete. It's a little fucked up... But aren't they both?**

**I love 'hurt Red.' Any more ideas or prompts for this theme? :-)**

Red had thanked her and told her that she should feel free to go, yet she made no movement towards the door. After the intimacy of cradling his head and helping him to swallow the strong pain meds, Lizzie wanted to prolong the connection. He began to insist but she silenced him with a soothing touch to his forehead.

"I'm going to stay for a little while. At least until Dembe comes back. No arguments."

She pulled gently at the fresh white shirt that was now gathered around his left shoulder, before removing it completely. It was entirely too clean she noted, thinking about the cuts and grazes around his head and upper body. The thought of Dembe having to help clean him up and dress him in fresh clothes made her smile. She folded and placed the shirt carefully on the chair by the window. She then slid off her boots and pulled her sweater over her head, placing it on top of his clothes.

"Besides," she spoke, walking back towards him in her black pants and strappy top. "It'll give you the opportunity to explain what happened today." He watched her progress with curiosity. Lizzie eased herself down on the right side of the bed, careful not to jostle his position and cause him further pain. Leaning on her left elbow, she loomed over him and took in his features. His fair eyelashes, the surprising smoothness of his skin, his full lips. She thought about what he had done to her with them, the reactions they had evoked in her. She clenched her inner muscles in recollection.

"You think you've got the upper hand here, don't you, sweetheart?" His eyes fluttered open and his lips quirked in amusement. An answer was unnecessary.

Red's smile faded and his steady hand reached out to touch her throat. His hand then smoothed its way to rest in the middle of her chest, his tactility mimicking her earlier actions. Lizzie's eyes were downcast, gaze firmly fixed on his hand; his golden skin settling on her paleness. It continued downward in painstaking fashion until his palm lay between her breasts. She was sure at this point that Red would be able to feel the throb of her heart beneath the heat of his fingers. The intimacy of being here, on his bed, with Red laid prone was all too apparent.

"Red… please." Lizzie blushed at the sound of her own breathy whisper. "Don't play me."

A deep chuckle erupted, filling the room for a brief moment. The sharp hiss and hitching of breath that followed wrenched Lizzie from her daze. The hand that had just scorched her skin now cradled his midsection. Red's teeth were set, his head thrown back and eyes twisted tightly shut in anguish. A growl formed deep within him and bubbled up in stages.

Lizzie tenderly took one of his hands away and held it tightly in her own. How many times over the past year had he done this for her? Offered her an assuring touch, a supportive squeeze of her hand just out of sight of others.

"Red, are you okay?"

His tongue swiped at his dry lips. "I'll be fine. Just as soon as the meds set in," he smiled.

"Well, that's what you get for trying to manipulate me," she spoke, trying to distract him from the obvious pain he was trying to downplay.

Red's lips set in a mock-pout. He was man of many faces, she mused. He possessed the rare ability to express everything that he was feeling without ever needing to open his mouth. Over the past months Lizzie had become painfully aware of her ever increasing need to be the one who elicited a chuckle from him, or to be the one who made his lips dance as they did when he was deep in thought. Presently, she was determined to be the one who made his eyes widen when he recognised he had underestimated her. She was falling. And helpless to stop herself. It thrilled and terrified her in equal measure.

"I'm not trying to manipulate or play you, Lizzie."

Both of his hands drifted down to the cotton sheets beneath him. His fingers grazed appreciatively over their exquisite softness. She did the same and took in their fineness. Lizzie fleetingly noted that the only time she had ever slept in bedding this indulgent was on her honeymoon with Tom. The honeymoon that they had barely afforded and had sold their car to finance. It had been…

"Lizzie."

She forced a thin smile, tucking her hair behind her ear and enveloping their joined hands in her other palm.

"It would have been remiss of me to have you lying here in my bed and _not_ try to touch you." He spoke softly, sincerity shining in his green eyes.

Red's words rocked her, his soft tone setting a range of feelings ricocheting though her body.

"I mean, you might have thought I wasn't interested," he continued, lightening the charged atmosphere. "Heaven forbid."

She was sure that his words would have been accompanied with his patented head-tilt had he been physically able to execute it. Lizzie's arm was becoming numb from supporting her head. She lay down on her left side facing him. Then in a surge of boldness, Lizzie closed the distance so that her head lay on the edge of her pillow. Her eyes now took in his profile, mere inches between them.

"I think that in your current condition, your male bravado can perhaps take a back seat, don't you think? Just this once?" She let her fingernail trace the precise lines of his sideburn and drift slowly onto his cheek.

"What happened with the connection?" she spoke quietly, unsure if he had drifted off.

"Now who's trying to manipulate whom, Elizabeth?"

She chose to ignore his words, a silent admission that she was indeed trying to gain an advantage, but enjoying it immensely. "Did he set it up, Red? Was it an ambush?" She changed tact, her knee bending to touch his right leg and her fingers moving down his torso.

Lizzie's fingers now nestled gently in the soft hairs of his stomach, reminding him that she still desired an explanation for the injury. She drew slow circles, fingertips barely making contact with his skin. Lizzie's fingers danced around his bellybutton and she knew he was beginning to falter.

He breathed in and held it, eyeing the ornate light fixture above his head in the dim room. "She."

"What?" Lizzie replied, her hand continuing its teasing motion.

"It was a 'she,'" he ground out.

Lizzie took a moment to process his words. "The informant was a woman? I thought our intel said that…"

"I know what the bureau's intel said. But, trust me; she was most _certainly_ a woman."

His change in tone drew a sigh from Lizzie. She knew that part of his persona was the charismatic playboy who loved to splash cash and shamelessly indulge his penchant for the finer things, but she didn't need the visual.

"It doesn't explain how you came to be in this state" she rallied.

"A post-coital interruption," he stated matter of factly.

"Being somewhat indisposed I wasn't able to defend myself as I normally might. A bodyguard had been in the room the entire time. Perhaps out on the balcony," he ruminated. "In any case, they left with the chip and the account numbers."

"And you left with broken ribs and a bruised ego," Lizzie countered.

"Very good, Ms Keen," he smiled. "And, the woman... It... I know how it would seem." Red paused momentarily. "But it was just part of the dance. You see, she was trying to..."

Lizzie had a grasp of the world in which he operated. She didn't need to hear any more. Her own life had descended into the kind of tumultuous chaos that she had only witnessed in Sam's favourite film noirs that he insisted she watch. Lines had blurred so dramatically that she couldn't even recall a time of simple choices and right and wrong.

Red tried to shuffle back to adjust his position on the pillow but bumped his injured head against the headboard. "Dammit." He was through with the explanation, it seemed. She would leave it for now and hear more when Dembe returned. "Are you uncomfortable?"

"A little," he admitted, against his better instincts.

"Let's get you undressed and I'll let you rest for a while."

He raised his eyebrows then. Displaying the face that she had been waiting for. The one that belied his underestimation of her. She pulled back his belt and eased it cautiously from the loops. She undid his fly as quickly as possible, trying to eliminate any hint of seduction from her actions. It was impossible though. How do you help a man whom you've slept with out of his pants without there being an undercurrent of heated anticipation? Especially when his arousal was making itself evident.

"Just ignore it," he gestured downwards with a wave of his hand. "I couldn't finish, I don't think… even if I wanted to." Her movements stalled, she was in unchartered territory and unsure of how to proceed. Or if she should proceed. "And I would want to. Just so you know." His voice had changed; it was slower, with each word drawn out. The medication was beginning to affect him.

Lizzie's eyes darkened. She felt as if a wager had been laid down. "Just lay back, Raymond." Placing a hand on his upper thigh, near the dark grey material of his boxer briefs, the sudden rush of power she felt was heady and unexpected.

Even in his increasingly woozy state she knew that he had to have recalled asking her to call him by his given name in bed weeks before. Red sighed, all but confirming her suspicion and adjusted his position slightly, his hips pressing up into her caress almost imperceptibly.

"I can barely move, Lizzie. I…" There was a mixture of warning and apology in his voice.

Lizzie chuckled indulgently at his words. He really was rather jarringly sweet in his current vulnerability. She was momentarily amused by the mere association of the word 'sweet' with Raymond Reddington. Machiavellian was usually her first thought. Charming, yes. Caring and given to moments of sincere kindness, most certainly. But he didn't open himself up to others readily enough to show his true self. He probably didn't even know who his true self was.

"Let me take care of you, Raymond." She would normally feel self-conscious about attempting to appear sexy or alluring in the eyes of a man but she proceeded. She had reached the point of no return and had decided to proceed. Consequences be damned.

She eased his underwear over his erection and helped him raise his hips without causing too much pain. Her hand wrapped tentatively around the base and she glanced up at him. She was apprehensive. Red had been the one who characteristically took the initiative during their previous encounter. She stroked up and down his thick shaft, confidence growing with every murmur and growl she elicited from him. On some level she knew that every hitch of breath or clench of muscle must be hurting him terribly, but she also knew Raymond Reddington. The pleasure/pain threshold was something that he often waxed lyrical about, as was the surrender of control. And judging from the way his hands gripped the sheets, he was quite happy about the evening's developments.

"Yesssssss... Lizzie."

"Is this okay?" she asked coyly, her hand moving confidently now, yet still mindful of his tenderness.

He nodded, his tongue moving back and forth across his top lip.

"I think so.… Kiss me."

She propped herself up on her elbow again and leaned into him, feeling somewhat victorious. She was aware of a clean, comforting smell, then his aftershave forced its way into her consciousness and she savoured them both. She was then taken aback when his tongue swiped gently at her bottom lip before she had even pressed her lips to his. He had relinquished control to her hands but seemed intent on retaining the upper hand in their kiss. Red's tongue surged into her mouth, teasing and caressing hers before drawing back to pull on her bottom lip time and time again. She adored the way that he favoured the use of his teeth. He had worshipped her body with every inch of his own when they had first had sex. It was masterful and he had pushed her to her limits.

"That's enough of that, Raymond. Just relax," she smiled. Lizzie sat up on her knees and moved down the spacious bed again. She lowered her head slowly, keeping her eyes on his for as long as she could before she took him into her mouth.

"It's hard to relax when my dick's…. in…." The sounds of his erratic breathing filled the room. Red instinctively tried to move his hips as her tongue swiped the underside of the head, but he thought the better of it, instead settling for a loud groan. Lizzie set a deliberately unpredictable pace, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could before drawing back to tease him with her tongue once more.

Without his knowing, her hand drifted lower to graze his balls. Lizzie was torn between savouring an invaluable opportunity to explore and tease him, and the desire to get him off as quickly as possible and let him rest. She squeezed gently, watching his face to gauge his reaction. She felt out with her own body. When did she fall so far?

"Fuck," he breathed, stretching it out.

Raymond was not given to swearing. She couldn't quite recall him ever uttering that particular expletive before. Even in the direst of circumstances, of which they often found themselves in. For some twisted reason it stoked a sudden rush of heat within her.

His hands gripped her hair tightly, taking her out of her thoughts as she worked him unrelentingly with her mouth. Moments later he was coming apart and she lay nestled next to him, her lips seeking out the tattoos on his right arm. She listened to his slowing breaths and realised perversely that this was as close to peaceful as she had felt in months.

She was in trouble. She knew it.


End file.
